Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue
by PiER
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, travel back to when she was Athena the betrothed of Grindelwald and discover how Albus threw light into the dark path she had been forced to walk.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**Note:** _This was posted here a couple of months ago but I took it down and have tinkered with it a little. I have tried to take into account the Deathly Hallows but a lot of this was planned out months ago so I may not have been completely successful. No spoilers occur until chapter 4._

**A huge big thank you to my beta, Aleta II Anon!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 1

_September 1945_

Minerva McGonagall shivered despite the roaring fire. She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched her lady-in-waiting, Braelyn, make the tea.

"There you go Miss Minerva." The elderly witch smiled, handing her the steaming cup.

Minerva held it between her dainty hands and stared dismally around her dark quarters – her prison. The faded tapestries hanging on the stone walls failed to keep the harsh autumn air out as a draught coursed through causing the candles to flicker, casting strange shadows on the dismal surroundings. She blew on her tea as Braelyn took a seat opposite the young witch in front of the fire.

"Tell me about my mother." Minerva whispered.

Braelyn slowly pulled her gaze from the burning logs and surveyed the witch in front of her with sympathetic eyes. Braelyn had been in her life ever since Minerva was born. She had watched the babe overcome her mother's death and many more trials to become the beautiful young woman before her. But Braelyn knew that behind the courageous façade still beat the heart of a young girl crying out for affection.

"She loved you Minerva, more than anything in this world."

Minerva was seven years old when Eilidh McGonagall passed away. It was an arranged marriage and Eilidh was some forty years younger than Harold McGonagall. When Minerva was born Eilidh poured her heart and soul into the cherished bairn but the same could not be said for Harold. He was a harsh man known to dabble in the dark arts. He was a powerful wizard never to be double-crossed. However unsympathetic he might be Braelyn suspected that somewhere deep down he had felt something for his young bride. She saw the pain that briefly flashed in his hardened, grey eyes when he dared steal a look in his daughter's direction.

Minerva was the spitting image of her lovely mother, all except for her hair. Minerva had long, thick, ebony locks just like her father. Braelyn believed it was her eyes that caused him the most anguish. Her deep green orbs had put many a wizard under a spell. Minerva's ivory complexion, porcelain features, ruby red lips, emerald eyes, slender frame and elegant poise were all her mothers doing. Her quick wit, acerbic tongue, sharp intelligence, stubbornness and lethal temper she inherited from her father. Her magical abilities and heart were all of her own.

"Your happiness preceded all else."

A shadow passed Minerva's countenance. Even the dismal lighting could not hide the change.

"This matrimony will not bring me happiness."

Her jaw clenched and her eyes hardened. She carefully placed the teacup down on a small table to her left then balled her hands into fists. Braelyn slowly lent forward and placed a tender hand upon her charge's knee.

"Hush, wee one. You must obey your father whether you like it or not."

In order to gain favour with the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, Harold McGonagall offered his only daughter's hand in marriage. Grindelwald had accepted and the ritual was to take place as soon as the Dark Wizard got back from his latest mission. Minerva's opinion was never asked as she was expected to abide by her father's wishes. And so it was she came to be in the fortress of Grindelwald, located on an unplottable island, surrounded by dark wizards and black magic.

The mere thought of the lecherous old man, soon to be her husband, made Minerva sick. She gripped Braelyn's hand tightly with both of her own and fixed the older witch with a gaze so intense Braelyn was forced to look away. The pain, pleading and despair evident in the green eyes clawed at her heart.

"I cannot follow through with this marriage. I would sooner turn a wand upon myself!"

"Minerva!" Braelyn scolded harshly. "Don't ever utter those words again!"

The two witches fell silent, the embers of the fire faded but the howling of the wind continued long into the moonless night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing. The poem is by Alfred Lord Tennyson and the rest belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A huge big thank you to my beta, Aleta II Anon!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 2

Minerva's nose twitched, the smell of salt carried on the air long before she could see the shore. She ran ahead of Braelyn, arms outstretched and her long locks breaking free of their confinement to flutter in the wind. She took deep breaths and felt the sand squish beneath her feet. She had seen nothing but stone, grime and shadows since her arrival. She had missed her freedom. In the end her gloom finally persuaded Braelyn to bribe the guard and allow them blessed freedom for scant, precious hours.

"Miss Minerva, you'll catch a chill to your bone." Braelyn hurried down to the beach unfolding a shawl. "Now wrap this around your shoulders." The look she gave her young charge brooked no room for argument.

The young witch sighed and sat herself upon a smooth rock. The wind whisked at her skirts, the waves lazily hugged the shore creating a cool and calming effect.

"We really have no time to amble. We should hurry back before someone notices our absence." Under her breath Braelyn muttered, "How you talked me into this I will never know!"

But the two of them both knew Braelyn could never resist Minerva for long.

"A few more minutes." Minerva closed her eyes and turned her face to the barely warming sun.

In less than one month Minerva would turn twenty-one. It dawned upon her that she would then have been of age for four whole years and, in theory, able to make her own decisions and follow her own path. But that was not to be. If one obeyed the old ways, like her father and his merry men, then she was relatively old to be betrothed. A young witch was eligible to wed as early as fifteen. But Minerva was a free spirit and an opinionated soul, she longed to make her own choices and learn from her own mistakes.

"Why long for things if they are not meant to be ours?" She wondered sorrowfully.

"Minerva, dear, do not torture yourself." The gentle Braelyn pleaded. Minerva's eyes snapped open and she glared far out into the horizon.

"Am I to suppress these feelings freedom stirs within? Why feel such emotions if we are not to express and act upon them?"

Minerva expected no answer and indeed she received none. She sat on her rock with her back straight and her head held high. Her raven hair whipped her pale face as she watched the sea ripple against unknown obstacles beneath the surface.

"Who would be a mermaid fair?" Her whisper was carried along the winds never heard by Braelyn's ears.

_I would be a mermaid fair;  
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;  
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;  
And still as I comb'd I would sing and say,  
'Who is it loves me? Who loves not me?_

"Who is it loves me? Who loves not me?" Again her voice was lost in the breeze; washed away with the waves to crevices more blissful – worlds unknown.

She could feel her lady-in-waiting's eyes upon her but as she turned to meet her gaze a movement caught her attention. Further along the shoreline a dark form was being lulled about by the waves. The waters washed the shadowed shape back and forth against the sand. Minerva quickly stood and with long strides went to investigate. Braelyn frowned but was quick to follow. As Minerva came closer she realised it was a man. She hurried to drag him from the sea to a safer spot upon dry land.

"Braelyn help!"

Following orders Braelyn gripped two legs and together the witches heaved him ashore.

"Minerva, we must go!" Fear clutched Braelyn's chest. If they were to be found…She dared not finish that thought. The consequences could be dire. "He's dead. Quickly!"

Minerva ignored the woman's protests and bent down besides the washed-up man. She swallowed deeply and brushed his knotted beard to one side. With her fingers to his neck she managed to find a pulse.

"He's alive! But his pulse is weak. Quickly Braelyn, we must get him to safety!"

Braelyn's objection fell on deaf ears and she was bound to help her young charge. She levitated the half dead figure across the beach to an abandoned shack. Minerva was quick to light a fire and stripped the man of his wet clothes without a second thought.

"Minerva!" Braelyn cried half mortified.

"Boil water Braelyn! And summon that small bag of herbs and remedies you always keep close by!"

Minerva paid no heed to the man's well-formed body. All she saw was a person in need of help for the man before her was surely knocking on Death's door. She noted the various bruises and cuts covering his naked form but what worried her most was the deep, nasty gash sliced across his torso. Open to the elements of the salty sea the wound had become infected. She brushed the man's tangled, auburn hair aside and felt his forehead. He was freezing. She transfigured thick blankets and cast multiple heating charms.

"His wounds must be cleaned and dressed." Minerva stressed.

Braelyn scurried forward having prepared a bowl of warm water with chamomile and mallow root and soft cloths. She had also mixed Murtlap Essence, pomegranate juice and salamander blood into a thick, green, foul-smelling, healing paste that Minerva carefully smeared upon the deep cuts. Time was running short and both Minerva and Braelyn grew anxious. If a search party were sent to find them then under no circumstances would this man survive.

"Braelyn go back!"

"We will both return to Grindelwald's lair! Come along, we have done all we can for this man and now he must fend for himself!"

Minerva's eyes flashed with fury. Her mind was set and she would not let this man die. Wasting precious time Minerva persuaded Braelyn to go back and she gave her word she would return as soon as possible and sneak in as her feline alter ego. Very few knew of her newly acquired animagus abilities so she reasoned the risks were minimal. Yes, Minerva was a very talented witch. That was one of the few things her father had never neglected. He had been adamant that she received the best tutoring available, he himself placed great weight in education claiming knowledge was the key to power. So her magical abilities blossomed alongside her thirst for learning, not that she craved power she simply was naturally gifted. She travelled far and wide yet still lived a very sheltered life. When possible her father preferred to keep her behind closed doors to curb her views and control her temper. In the end there was no denying Minerva McGonagall possessed a strategic and opinionated mind.

"I will not deny I am worried. Have you perfected the art of animagi? And what if your presence is requested?"

Minerva insisted she was capable of transforming and came up with the solution to say she was feeling poorly and had retired early. The plan was set in motion and Braelyn had no real power to intervene.

"Be back by sundown!" Braelyn leant forward and kissed Minerva's forehead. "And whatever happens do not, I repeat _do_ _not_, tell him your name!" Seeing her confused expression Braelyn elaborated in hushed and hurried whispers. "You are the sole heir to the McGonagall domain and are Grindelwald's betrothed! We do not know of this mans identity! We cannot be sure to trust him!" Minerva nodded, realization descending. "Promise me, Miss Minerva!" Braelyn took her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. "Promise me!"

"I promise."

"And by Morgana do not forget your occlumency skills!"

When Braelyn left Minerva began to understand just how foolish she had been. The man in front of her could be the enemy, perhaps sent to kill her or even her future husband. _Would that be such a bad thing?_ Minerva secretly wondered. She shook her head, clearing her mind of all thoughts to focus solely on the task at hand. Discipline was her forte.

She placed more logs on the fire and burned curative herbs, a mixture to keep the man longer in his oblivious sleep of peace. The air inside the small shelter was heavy with the smell of calamint for protection and courage, and thyme to chase away any lurking nightmares. She knelt beside the wounded man, sighing heavily, her healing knowledge went little further, Braelyn was more adept, but in the firelight she did her best to examine the injured being. Shadows played across his face as she moved to quietly soak the cloths in the healing ointment. She turned back to gently sponge his forehead and noticed that the mysterious individual's nose was broken. She did her best to reset it but quickly appeared her efforts were too little too late. His nose, she assumed once long and regal, now was rather crooked and bent. As she continued her observations his lean muscles did not escape her attention.

She began to hum an old Scottish tune her mother used to sing to her but the words were long since forgotten. The melody chased away the darkness as she cared for the man she now considered a gentleman without ever having seen his eyes. She decided there was a strange sense of safeness, a comforting aura. Somehow she knew this man was no harm to her, others perhaps but not her.

Her ministrations led her to the discovery of a peculiar shaped scar above his knee. She blushed at never seeing so much of a man before. She carefully wrapped bandages around the deep gash of his torso, her hands brushing against the speckle of auburn hair dusting his chest. She let her imagination runaway with her as she imagined what shade his eyes would be, how his voice would sound and the way his long fingers would feel…

As the sun touched the tops of the leafless oaks Minerva's time grew short and she had to make her way back, fulfilling her promise to Braelyn. Though she may have convinced Braelyn of her animagus abilities she herself was not overconfident. After all it was less than four months ago she had first completed the art of transforming into a small, grey, tabby cat.

Focused, she closed her eyes and summoned her power. With every part of her, mind, body and spirit she thought _cat_. The words of the spell vibrated through her. She felt the power in her fingertips, in the soles of her feet, in the hair on her head, up and down her spine tingling all over. She felt her weight shift and opened her eyes to balance on four paws.

She let out a soft meow, her unidentified patient never once stirred.

But her task was only half done. She still had to creep her way back into the fortress. For all her outward appearance Minerva was not a cat. When a witch or wizard transforms, they do not become another life form, they merely remake themselves in the semblance of it to deceive people's eyes. The more successful the transformation, the more likely they are to feel of the essence of the chosen form – the instincts, the changes of balance, sight and hearing. The very best witches and wizards retain at the same time their own full consciousness. However, while in the altered form they cannot perform other magic or cast other spells. So Minerva now had to find the delicate balance of resisting the animal urges whilst maintaining the human mind.

Sticking to the shadows she successfully sniffed her way on padded paws back to the tower reserved for Grindelwald's bride-to-be. All the while planning her next escape to her patient…


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**Another huge big thank you to my beta, Aleta II Anon!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 3

She walked quickly down the path that led beneath the canopy of leafless branches to the abandoned shack. Her green eyes darted left and right and her ears prickled at every sound. Underfoot the fallen leaves of oak and ash crunched making far too much noise for her liking. She felt she was announcing her presence to the world and it unsettled her. Now that she harboured a secret she suspected even the trees had eyes. As she strained her ears she could hear small rodents and other creatures scurrying in the shadows. Minerva drew her cloak closer about her shoulders, tucked her head down and made for her patient.

There was still no word on Grindelwald and Minerva thanked the great Goddess for every second granted away from him. So long as he was absent her wanderings went relatively unnoticed which in turn gave her patient a greater survival rate.

The wounded man, hidden away from prying eyes, was healing better than could be expected. It had been two days since she had rescued the stranger and already most of the minor wounds were but scabs that would eventually heal without a trace. The nasty gash across his torso was still cause for worry but she believed it was under control. She had stopped burning thyme after the first evening hoping he would gain consciousness. Indeed, last night he had blearily opened his eyes to reveal startling blue orbs but soon after had succumbed to the clutches of Hypnos.

_Strange. _Minerva mused._ Hypnos, twin brother of Thanatos. Sleep so closely related to Death. Closely related…but that is all. Just look at yourself, Minerva McGonagall, daughter of Harold McGonagall. Closely related…that does not make you him. You are your mother's daughter…but with your father's temperament._

Her thoughts were frustrating.

_The blue-eyed stranger will survive!_

As Minerva reached the shabby shed she swiftly cast a furtive glance behind her back to check she had not been followed. When she deemed it safe she whispered "alohomora," opened the door and entered. Herbs wafted her senses, her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fire and the few candles scattered around the small room then quickly fell on the empty bed. Before she had time to spin around a large, long fingered hand clasped her throat. Another hand snaked its way around her slim waist.

"Friend or foe?"

The voice was hoarse from lack of use. The body pressed against her back was warm, a stark contrast to the cold autumn air blowing in through the open door. Minerva quelled her first instinct of fear and willed her racing heart to slow down. Her wand felt heavy in her pocket. The more she thought about it the calmer she felt. This was, after all, her patient, the very same person she deemed a gentleman not two nights ago. The unspoken seconds trickled past until her assailant finally loosened his grasp. He turned her around, held her by her shoulders and looked deep into her emerald eyes; in turn she drowned in his sapphire. Mesmerised she spoke not a word; breathless all she could do was stare.

"Your eyes…" He croaked as his hands came up to cup her face. "You…your voice…" His tone held a hopeful note of disbelief.

The spell was broken. Minerva jerked her head away, promptly turned on her heel and busied herself with boiling water.

"I'm s-sorry, Miss." He stuttered, hands in the air as he cautiously made his way closer. "It was wrong of me a-and I offer my sincerest apologies."

Minerva reached for her bag and added chamomile to the tea she was mixing, all the while her back was to him and she showed no sign of hearing him.

He continued apologizing in German, French, Russian, Polish and even Nepalese. Minerva turned back around and offered him a steaming cup.

"You should be resting."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise but a ghost of a smile tugged his lips. Suddenly his legs shook with weariness and the efforts of the early morning caught up with him. He slowly sunk back onto the makeshift bed. He managed to place his teacup on the floor before succumbing to exhaustion and falling asleep.

Shortly after Braelyn came with food. Her lips were pursed but she said not a word. Their argument from the night before was fresh in both their minds. For two hours Braelyn had tried to persuade Minerva to leave the stranger be but Minerva was stubborn and in the end they had both gone to bed fuming. She stayed only to make sure Minerva ate every last breadcrumb then quickly made her excuses.

It was as Minerva tenderly sponged the man's forehead that he began to stir. She retrieved a three-legged stool and waited by his bedside as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked bleary-eyed until he adjusted to the faint lighting. He was not alarmed by her presence quite the contrary actually. His face broke into a sleepy smile as he carefully pulled himself up into a sitting position. The silence stretched between them as they both regarded each other. Minerva sat back straight; head held high and her left eyebrow arched in slight question. He sat slouched against two pillows; auburn hair and beard fluffy from sleep but his eyes were sparkling bright, with mirth or curiosity Minerva could not determine.

"To whom do I have to thank for such kindness?"

Minerva took a moment to answer. Braelyn's words echoed in her mind. She shoved them aside and answered. "My mother. Under my father's influence you would have been left to die."

But he was not easily dissuaded and surprised her with a direct approach. "What is your name?"

"My name?" Her voice was a tone higher.

His blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "I cannot possibly thank you properly if I do not know your name."

Minerva avoided eye contact and replied in a brisk tone. "Then don't."

"I'm sorry, I do not follow." His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Thank me," she waved her hand. "There is no need. Just make a full recovery."

They fell silent. He leant back and allowed her to change his bandages. She carefully reapplied the foul-smelling, green paste with gentle fingers but still felt him tense. He bit his tongue and swallowed his pain. When she was finished she poured him a glass of water and as he drank she felt his eyes upon her. She tucked a stray strand of jet-black hair behind her ear and chanced a glance in his direction. Their eyes locked and in his depths of blue she felt the whole world lay before her.

"You have a lovely voice." He said softly never once breaking eye contact. Her mouth twitched barely disguising a smile. He took her right hand in his long fingers and brought it to his lips. "Albus Dumbledore, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She let her hand rest in his relishing in his warmth and took the time to notice his voice was not raspy having had a glass of water. It was a deep, rich tone that softly set her at ease. _Too charming for his own good_. She mused. "Athena McGinley." She used her mother's maiden name. As for Athena, she was the Roman goddess Minerva's, Greek counterpart. A small play on words but no harm would come of it. It was for her own benefit, in some small way she felt she was not lying to the appealing gentleman just taking liberties with the truth.

"Ah, a goddess healed me back to health; no one will ever believe me."

"Yes, much like the tales legends are made of." Minerva suppressed a chuckle and pulled her hand from his to gently push him back down on the bed. "Now if our hero is to fully recover he must obey orders." She cast a wandless heating charm upon his blanket and pulled it over his chest.

"In the tales the fair maiden sings him to sleep."

_Legend has it the hero marries the fair maiden…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**Note:** _A few Deathly Hallows spoilers so those who have not read the book - **you have been warned!**_

**If it weren't for Aleta II Anon this chapter would not exist so a great big thank you!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 4

"Upon the waves with seaweed hair,

Her lament cut straight through the air.

With eyes so bright she beckoned them close,

She stole their hearts with lips of rose."

A sweet voice slowly invaded Albus's mind but the fuzzy realms of sleep still claimed his thoughts. As he gradually tried to fight his way back to consciousness memories came flooding back.

_Gellert's raspy voice with a thick German accent, "Join me!"_

_His own quivering, "Dead?" _

_Green eyes surrounded by long, black lashes_

_The sun sparkling upon Hogwarts' many windows_

The memories were haphazard and jumbled. Flashing fast through his mind, panic rose in the pit of his stomach. A thin layer of sweat glistened above his brow, slowly trickling across his forehead and into his hairline.

_George's lifeless, grey eyes_

_A rainbow array of curses_

_Deep pools of jade shining in the candlelight_

_The raspy voice taunting, "Which one of us killed her?"_

_Unimaginable pain_

_The giant squid lazily lounging in the sun_

Behind his closed lids his eyes darted back and forth. Sweat followed his spine, dripping down his back. Skin clammy, the sticky blankets clung to him, the more he struggled the tighter their grip became like a Devil's Snare binding his arms and legs. Still the images haunted his mind in a fast and disorderly fashion. He could make little sense of anything and wanted to cry out in distress but not a single sound passed his lips.

_Everett's body hitting the ground with a loud thud_

_The metallic taste of blood_

_Ariana's angelic complexion_

_Using the last of his strength to disapparate_

_The taste of saltwater_

Slowly feeling sifted through his slumber. His body ached but would not connect the increase in pain with his struggled movements. He tried to focus but his head wanted to explode. Leaning into a delicate touch, his mind registered a soothing hand.

Albus could make little sense of anything as the memories and images flashed in an uncontrollable craze. He gasped and with an effort opened his eyes but his surroundings were a blur. He blinked several times and the ache in his limbs intensified. The patchwork quilt itched against his moist skin so he tried to wriggle into a more comfortable position but a terrible pain shot through his chest. A damp cloth startled him but pressed against his forehead it felt too good to resist. He stopped fidgeting and snuggled back down. A tender hand ran through his hair.

_Two big eyes of green_

_His long fingers shakily grasping Gellert's wand_

"Shh, I'm here."

He looked up and saw a shadow looming above him. He found it hard to concentrate on specific features but a pair of green eyes shone like emeralds and cut through his mind's haze.

_Athena _

Gradually his breathing slowed as he found the sweet tones of her Scottish brogue relaxing. He tried to speak but his mouth was too dry, as he licked his lips he could taste the salt. He settled back and let the waves of her rhyme sweep him away.

"No ear could resist her song cried with soul

And yet they'd persist though her heart a black hole.

Bright in the moon on a star-spangled night,

A blissful vision with skin pearly white."

Athena held his hand as his mind's eye conjured sweet images to chase away the memories.

_A raven-haired mermaid gracefully lying atop a large rock, in the middle of an eerily calm lake. Her tangling locks reaching past her bare breasts. Her tail scales glistening gold in the setting sunlight, catching hints of flaming red with each small movement. Suddenly she looks up, her eyes are a colour green far darker than the deepest secrets of the forest. They are filled with such sorrow Albus tries to reach out to her._

"Where the crystal ocean melt into the sky,

Beyond their reach, yet seen by their eye.

She'd tempt them slowly, swimming into sight,

But gone was she before the sun reached height."

_Wordlessly she dives into the lake, disappearing without a single ripple. The surface remaining untouched but her fingerprints forever leaving a mark upon his heart._

The cool cloth gently traced the lines of his face. With eyes closed, Albus reached out and placed his sweaty palm upon Athena's delicate hand, pressing it to his cheek.

"There, there, I'm here."

Her Scottish lilt sent reassuring shivers up and down his spine. He felt her apply another heating charm to his blanket then her fingers left and the tinkle of glass could be heard. He carefully opened his eyes and saw her lithe form silhouetted in the candlelight. Her hair as black as night was pulled into a plait and what little he could see of her skin was creamy white. Her eyes were her most enchanting feature. The bed dipped as she sat beside him and placed a glass of water on the stool close by. Carefully she hooked her hands under his arms and helped him into a slumped sitting position. Albus gritted his teeth together and tried his best to swallow the pain. Small beads of perspiration budded forth at his temples.

"Here, drink this."

She held the glass of water to his mouth and he guzzled it down. Droplets ran into his beard but she gently wiped them away with a neutral expression.

"I have a two potions for you to drink and then I believe it would be best to redress your wounds."

Albus recognized the first of the two potions; it was a basic Blood-Replenishing Potion. The second, however, was unfamiliar. It was not that he distrusted Athena, in fact he felt oddly at ease with her, but with the war he had become weary of poisoning. His friend Arnold Swindon, the late Minister for Defence, had perished that way. As Athena held the suspicious potion to his mouth he lifted his head to sniff it. It seemed to be based on a Pepperup Potion however he caught a waft of…

"Hellebore?"

Athena had been watching him closely. Did she know he was an acclaimed alchemist?

"And a touch of moonstone."

Albus's auburn eyebrows rose slightly. Moonstone, though often used for the emotionally unbalanced, was highly incompatible with hellebore. The wrong dosage could be deadly. However, the Pepperup Potion should, in theory, counteract the effects if brewed at the right temperature. _Ingenious_

"Did you brew this yourself?"

She narrowed her eyes and Albus got the distinct feeling she knew of his suspicions.

"I feel poisoning is far too lenient a death. Tonight, just as you slip into slumber, I shall carefully slit your throat."

Her face was the epitome of utter seriousness. Not even a flinch or twitch to betray her mirth. Many, in fact most, would have gulped in sheer terror yet Albus somehow knew she was joking. Her tone was dry and her eyes gave nothing away but he still knew and he could not help but feel ashamed. Against his better judgement he trusted her. It was all in her eyes, a story untold, an intelligent mind begging to be set free. If he was where he believed he should be then she was risking her life to save him. Or was she? Albus shook his head and ignored the look he was receiving. No, Athena McGinley had gone to far too much trouble to suddenly poison him.

Albus was magically, mentally, emotionally and physically drained. He had little strength for anything and certainly not the energy to escape. But was he a prisoner? His weary mind decided he would simply have to place his trust in the unfamiliar witch.

The days blended together and Albus had little awareness of time. He met an elderly witch by the name of Lynn. She spoke very little and greeted him with a frown. Albus got the distinct impression she disapproved of his presence but it seemed she brewed his potions nonetheless. He certainly never heard her grumble though he was often aware of her scowls.

Athena, on the other hand, was a complete mystery to him. With time, as his strength gradually came back so did his curiosity and she intrigued him to no end. She was inexplicably attractive, a classic beauty and he felt himself drawn to her to say the least. But there was more to her than looks. He sensed there were hidden secrets just waiting to be unravelled. Her voice had a healing power of its own and many of the long hours were dwindled away by her humming various tunes. A couple of times she recited poetry from memory and once she offered to bring him a book to read but he reclined thinking his glasses lost but then cursed himself when he realised she would have perhaps read the novel aloud.

Other than that they did not really speak, their times were filled with comfortable silences. There was no need for words between them. To Albus it seemed she sensed when his mind wandered to less than pleasant thoughts and so she would intervene, subtly. Her voice a soothing comfort to ail his inner turmoil. If he needed to talk she would patiently wait until he had gathered his thoughts, offering support, but he refused to burden her with his woes. During such moments Albus willed himself not to brood upon his predicament but take the time to admire the witch at his aid. Athena was disinclined to chatter about herself but in his interest Albus picked up on the subtle hints suggesting a sharp intelligence concealed but behind what he could not decide. She was not by any means shy though had a reluctance to open up but sometimes, like the time she spoke the grand words of Shakespeare; he would catch a glimpse of a deeper beauty. At such moments he realised he had barely scratched the surface and it made him want to find out more.

Despite his greatest efforts, when left alone he could not help but assess his current situation. Who were these witches and why were they helping him? Out of the goodness of their hearts or did they have ulterior motives? Perhaps the most important question was, where was he? If all had gone correctly Albus should have managed to apparate to Grindelwald's hidden island. Of course he could not just come out and ask the witches, he had yet to trust them wholeheartedly. On the one hand they'd had numerous occasions to eliminate him but on the other, perhaps he was a puppet in an elaborate scheme dancing to their very tune and playing right into their hands.

The conflicting thoughts made Albus's palms sweat and his head ache. It took him long enough to realise he was without his wand, pocket watch and clothes. Instead he was clad in finely transfigured trousers of rich fabric and a thick, wizards jacobite shirt with hand stitched, Celtic patterns along the cuffs. The open, laced up collar allowed him to breathe easily.

"My robes – "

"– Were fit for the fire." Minerva turned from her spot in front of the flickering flames to face him. The firelight danced upon her long hair causing it to shine most becomingly. "But Lynn saved them, they are there in the corner." She pointed to a pathetic bundle upon an upturned box.

"My wand – "

"– One was broken I'm afraid. Snapped in two and you only had the one half. Your other is in alarmingly perfect condition."

_Gellert's no doubt. _Albus was loath to usethat diabolical wand, though many would argue it's not the wand but the wizard.

"My pocket watch – "

"– Is where you left it along with a few Knuts, Sickles and whatever else the sea did not claim from your pockets." She gracefully got up and retrieved his old, tattered robes, the colour indistinguishable. "Though I do not know if your watch works, we did not wish to pry we merely searched your pockets for any identification."

Albus found his beloved pocket watch. It had belonged to his great-grandfather and he was sincerely thankful it did work because it was irreplaceable. Not that Albus placed much value in material objects; it was the sentimental value that was priceless. After checking the time, the forth hand was upon the northern planet meaning it was three o'clock; he carefully placed it upon the bedside table and settled back for a hopefully dreamless nap.

The wind howled ruthlessly outside, Albus could hear the trees bending and the fallen leaves rustling. Through a crack in the old planks by the foot of his makeshift bed the dying sunlight shone reflecting off an empty potions bottle, a strange twinkle in such a sombre setting. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.** **The poems are by Sappho and Alfred Lord Tennyson**

**My beta, Aleta II Anon - Thank you!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 5

Now that the stranger had awoken and a name could be placed with his face Braelyn was reluctant to leave Minerva alone with the wizard. Under no circumstances did she leave her side once the sun had set. But during the day there were still chores to be done. There was no doubt Minerva was a very intelligent witch but she had yet to turn one-and-twenty. No matter what Harold McGonagall said, in her eyes Minerva was still a child

_An impressionable wee bairn with little experience in the way of men._

Albus Dumbledore.

Braelyn knew. Minerva knew also she just hadn't pieced together the little information. Albus Dumbledore was a prominent wizard in their magical community. It was he whom had discovered the nine uses of dragon's blood. Braelyn had also heard his name uttered secretly amongst the dark wizards in the shadows of the encampment. Was it not he whom the Dark Wizard supposedly feared? Braelyn wasn't entirely sure how she felt about his emergence. She needed to protect Minerva because she was sure the young witch had not yet fully realised who this individual was and what his being there could mean. Since his arrival Minerva and she had not been on the best of terms and in his presence Braelyn spoke very little.

It may have escaped Minerva's notice but Braelyn found it disconcerting that during Grindelwald's disappearance Dumbledore washed ashore upon the unplottable island. As far as they knew all the wards were still in place but she had trouble believing his appearance was just a coincidence.

It unnerved Braelyn how much time Minerva spent with Albus Dumbledore. It was alarming the risks Minerva was willing to take for him and Braelyn vowed to keep a close eye on the situation. She also found it disturbing how easily the two of them could sneak out of the fortress to tend to the injured man. There had been no word from Grindelwald for six days and rumours were beginning to circulate. His departure put everyone on edge but she observed how Minerva used the island's disarray to her advantage. Braelyn tried to caution her for it would not do to get caught but, as was the custom when Minerva's mind was set, she paid her no heed.

As Braelyn sat hunched in front of the fire brewing a chocolate-based potion, contemplating how best to handle the situation, she was ripped from her musings by a sharp intake of breath. It was gone midnight and the moon was concealed behind thick clouds. A storm was on the way; the air was thick and the wind harsh. If birds had occupied the island they would have gone into hiding. Minerva's soft voice humming caused her to raise an eyebrow and turn her attention to the couple in the corner of the shabby shack.

_Night terrors._

There was a pattern of sorts to these nights. Dumbledore would never verbally cry out but his gasps of air and sharp intakes of breath were enough to convey his anguish. Braelyn did feel for the man but she also felt they were risking too much by tending to his every need.

"Fish blubbed and gulls cried,

She remained untouched and the sailors sighed.

One night she emerged with legs to match

But no longer was she the pretty catch."

The fire crackled and illuminated the figures. Minerva rested on a three-legged stool by the edge of the bed; her ivory skin glistened gold in the firelight. Braelyn's eyes narrowed and her grip on her wand tightened. Minerva held Dumbledore's hand, softly tracing circles upon the back.

"In their mind's eye she was perfection

But faced with Beauty's creation,

She could have never lived up to their expectation.

Returned to the sea, she fought off their temptation."

Minerva ran through many songs during those dark times. Some of it he heard and the rest ran past him like leaves on the wind. She sang her voice hoarse but Braelyn was always there in the shadows to offer subtle assistance. When Dumbledore finally slept sound a hot cup of tea and a damp cloth would be by the bedside. Tonight was no different but Braelyn felt their touches were becoming too intimate.

"I can but imagine what pains him so." Minerva whispered settling herself down next to Braelyn in front of the fire.

"Those wounds were not self-inflicted." Braelyn stated the obvious with a harsh edge to her voice. Minerva's eyebrows rose but she stayed silent. "It's late. We should return to our quarters."

Minerva took a sip of her tea and shook her head. "I cannot leave him. Not tonight."

Wordlessly they welcomed dawn.

As the sun peaked through the dark rain clouds Dumbledore began to stir. Braelyn stood, kissed Minerva's forehead and grudgingly left. The tension between them weighed heavy on both their shoulders.

Minerva was tired; the sleepless nights were finally catching up with her. She needed rest but could not succumb to sleep, not when such an intriguing person lay before her. She yawned and stretched her stiff back. The air inside the small dwelling was warm and stuffy and though the smell of medicinal herbs was comforting, Minerva needed fresh air. With a quick glance at the occupant in the bed she carefully opened the door. Before she had a chance to shut it the howling wind had whipped her hair into her face and leaves danced around her. Surrounded by rustic colours she moved to the side of the shack, which sheltered her somewhat from the blustery weather. Looking up to the sky she felt the weather matched the mood of the island. Dark and gloomy, something bad was on its way and she could not shake off the ominous feeling of forebode.

Soon enough the raindrops began to fall. Minerva could have cast a quick spell to keep from getting wet but she liked the feel of the glistening beads trickling down her forehead, across her cheek and dripping off her chin. It had a strange cleansing feel to it, almost as though she could wash away her worries with the water.

She knew she should be careful, watchful of prying eyes but she asked herself, who would be outside in such dreadful weather? People were too busy worrying over Grindelwald and unsure whether they should make arrangements to leave the fortification to find him.

"Athena?"

Minerva jumped wand at the ready. Seeing Albus she lowered her wand. She stared into his blue eyes and her thoughts turned to those of his night terrors. The way his eyes twinkled in the rain one would scarcely know he suffered so. She recalled how he clasped her hand tightly, gripping on for dear life. She had wanted to embrace him, cuddle him close and fight away his fears but etiquette did not allow such boldness. All paranoid thoughts of capture evaded her as the two of them stood out in the open gradually becoming wetter. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

"You're cold. Come inside out of the rain."

He offered an able hand and she took it. She took one step forward. They were close, too close. Just another few feet… She cannot say what made her take that next step forward bringing them face-to-face. Maybe it was the way he looked as he slept so unmercifully, consequently vulnerable. The urge to embrace him was overwhelming. The wind still howled ruthlessly, her locks of ebony entwined with his auburn. She closed her eyes, moved towards him and slowly her arms went around his waist and she cautiously rested her head against his chest. Albus went very still. She noted his beard was damp with raindrops, itchy against her cheek. Then his arms gradually came around her, quite warily, as if she were a porcelain doll to be handled with care, one wrong move and she could just break.

They stood there awhile oblivious to their surroundings. The feelings evoked were indescribable. Until Minerva had felt his touch she did not know how much she had longed for it. Until she held him she did not realise he was just the right height for her to rest her brow in the hollow of his neck. She could feel his blood pulse under the skin, the gentle thrum of his magic.

She cannot recall at what point the embrace changed from one of comfort to something quite different. Perhaps it started with his lips chastely touching her forehead, for Albus seemed unsure of her, exercising restraint. But by the time he had managed to overcome self-control Minerva's hands had already twined up around his neck and her fingers had slipped in between his shirt mindful of his injuries. His lips moved from her temple to an eyelid, tapped the tip of her nose and kissed the corner of her mouth.

Albus's eyes were no longer blue as a summer sky but blazed a shade far darker than the depths of the deepest ocean.

"We can't do this," Minerva muttered against his lips as his hand found it's way over the swell of her breast through the soaked gown.

"Indeed not," he whispered back, kissing her again.

It took all of Minerva's will power to pull away. She could hear what an effort it was for Albus to control his breathing and indeed she was not much better herself. They stood less than two feet apart; Minerva could still make out each individual hair of his moustache. She watched a raindrop drip off his crooked nose; flow down his beard and out of sight.

"No meagre mortal can stand before you and not be engulfed."

At length the rain slowed to a drizzle but the leaves still rustled violently in the breeze.

_Engulfed? Swallowed up by the tides of a wave? How wrong for he has set my heart aflame._

She was unsure how to respond to his emotional plea but she hoarsely whispered,

"To continue is to set myself ablaze yet how can I oppose?"

Albus stepped forward invading Minerva's space. She opened her mouth to object but his fingers rendered her speechless. There was something in his eyes, something hidden so deep that she almost missed it. The world had tilted and her path had changed forever. Could just a tiny deviation alter her future?

"Shh," he hushed then took her hand in his and guided her back into the ramshackle hut.

Within a heartbeat of a moment a need flared between them that was unstoppable, her response would lead her somewhere entirely different yet the time for drawing back was lost forever. Lips kissed secret places and hands roamed skin drying before the fire. As they touched, tasted and learned each other Albus spoke softly and whispered sweet in Minerva's ear but when he cried out 'Athena' in sheer bliss Minerva felt a pang of guilt.

All too soon reality came flooding back but Minerva was reluctant to leave Albus's warm embrace. Albus seemed to have no objections as they lay before the gutted candlelight. His long fingers traced unseen patterns on her silky smooth skin glowing in the firelight.

"When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me, and a trembling seizes me all over." 

Minerva propped up on one elbow. The blanket dipped revealing her naked torso and she noticed how his eyes wandered. She raised an eyebrow,

"Sappho. I'm impressed."

His eyes followed a path across her collarbone and along her neck to meet her gaze.

"You sound anything but."

"Sentiments," she dismissed with a hint of annoyance. "Who inspired her to write such words? What does it all really mean?" Her free hand knotted in his beard, which was not yet long enough to sweep behind his shoulder, as one long leg curled across his. "We laugh, we cry, we are born, we die. Who will riddle me the how–"

"– and the why?" He finished for her. He took her wandering hand and kissed her smooth palm. "How you are you? Why I am I?"

"Who will riddle me the how and the why?" She whispered breathlessly. "Why the life goes when the blood is spilt?"

"What the life is? Where the soul may lie?" He worked his way up her wrist.

"Who will riddle me the how and the what?"

"Who will riddle me the what and the why?"

As the path of sun and moon across the sky, thus was their meeting – inevitable.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**Again I must thank Aleta II Anon, without your encouragement this chapter would not have been written!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 6

The kitchen was bustling with activity: dirty pots washed themselves, enchanted rolling pins rolled pastry and an invisible source peeled potatoes. In one of the three great fireplaces a pig slowly revolved roasting on an unseen spit. The heat was fierce, the smell delicious.

The kitchen was run by Philomena Rose McHattie, more often referred to a Big Pattie. As the name would suggest, Big Pattie was a large woman with little way for quarrels. She ran an organised kitchen and was an impeccable cook. Grindelwald distrusted house-elves so none were to set foot upon the island, Braelyn found that terribly odd but it was not her place to comment.

As Minerva's lady-in-waiting, Braelyn was not required to assist in the mundane chores of running the household. Her first and foremost duty was to Minerva. But that did not allow her to sit idle. Her charge was a bride-to-be so naturally there were plans to be made. And due to their current predicament there were also potions to be brewed. Reluctantly Braelyn had left Minerva alone with Dumbledore to complete her tasks in the hopes of hurrying back to them before nightfall. She could but hope the storm would die down by the time she set off to fetch her or else it might raise suspicions as to why she would venture forth on such an abominable day.

In the smallest hearth to the left of the room, away from the hustle and bustle, Braelyn sat carefully examining the wound-cleaning potion bubbling on a low heat before her. It was meant to be changing colour from bright orange to brown but a she stirred it three times counter clockwise it shimmered gold.

She sighed in frustration. _Dumbledore's more trouble than he's worth!_

Minerva had expressed concern for the gash across his chest and though her green paste had worked wonders for most of his other wounds it had little to no effect on that particular injury. As she rooted around for mucus exuded by a flobberworm, she could not help but feel they would be better off brewing Felix Felicis.

"I have not seen much of The Lady Minerva, is she feeling any better?"

Braelyn looked up, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Standing before her was Macnair's youngest lad, Adlard. He had addressed Minerva by her formal title, one that the Ministry had abolished 10 years ago in the hope of doing away with the class system and therefore bringing equal rights to all witches and wizards. Despite this, it was still used in certain circles, a sign of respect more than anything.

"I'm afraid she's still feeling a little under the weather." Noticing his clenched jaw she hastily added, "But I'm sure she'll be right as rain soon enough."

Adlard was part of Grindelwald's 7th airborne division, primarily trained for air assault operations. His group were nicknamed 'Screeching Auguries' for obvious reasons – their screech a sure sign of death. From what she gathered, his team did not solely operate on brooms but also flew the small herd of dragons Grindelwald had somehow obtained. Braelyn briefly wondered why Grindelwald had not seen fit to take the division with him on his latest mission but quickly deducted she would never know how that man functioned.

"I sent up extra blankets and would be happy to assist with additional heating charms."

Braelyn disliked being untruthful to the young wizard, Adlard was only four years Minerva's senior. He was actually one of the few wizards Braelyn approved of. His father attended Hogwarts together with Harold McGonagall and he had often accompanied his father on frequent visits to the McGonagall estates. That made Adlard and his elder brother one of the handful of young wizards ever to actually dine with Minerva McGonagall, as Harold was quite the overprotective father.

"Thank you and I will let you know if we are in need of your assistance."

Adlard wrung his fingers in an uncharacteristic form of nervousness before haltingly commenting, "I hope you do not mind but I asked Big Pattie to send The Lady Minerva up hot chicken soup for dinner."

_May Merlin bless his little heart!_

"That's very thoughtful of you, Mr Macnair. I will be sure to make your efforts known."

Braelyn barely suppressed a smile as he waved his hand in a dismissive manner and she suspected he was slightly embarrassed.

"We cannot have the Dark Wizard coming home to an ill bride."

Were his words tipped with envy? Alas, he too had succumbed to the allurement of Minerva McGonagall. Why was it that one always wanted what one could not have? Well, for his sake, she hoped it was but a passing fancy.

"I will be of bother no more as I can see you are busy, so I bid you good day."

He bowed politely and was gone. Braelyn added the mucus exuded by a flobberworm in the hopes of thickening the potion, and then quickly conceded she would have to come back at midnight to add the last of the ingredients. She may not get a full night's sleep but she would make certain Minerva did!

Big Pattie's shrill voice cut through the air as she began to sing the first bars of 'Greensleeves.' Before long the assisting young maids were adding their two Knuts worth. Braelyn looked out of the window and noticed that though the branches were bending wildly in the breeze, the rain had ceased.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:**** I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A huge big thank you to my beta, Aleta II Anon!**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 7

Despite Albus's earlier activities and his current indisposition sleep proved to be a fleeting mistress. The pale moon's long fingers crept between the cracks of his small abode casting uneasy shadows. Albus lay on the small makeshift bed with one arm behind his head listening to the howling wind playing with the crisp, autumn leaves.

_Have I fraternised with the enemy?_

The voice in his head was not his own but that of a paranoid, young auror whom Albus had had the amusement to teach in his last years of schooling. Albus also had the pleasure of meeting the young auror's late father on numerous occasions, although not an auror, he was a very mistrustful and obsessive floo inspector.

As a picture of Athena's bare thigh floated into memory Albus found his worries were elusive. Many forgot that he was but a man and just like any other man he wanted to savour the moment and not fret about anything else. So he lay back with a contented grin plastered upon his tired features.

His free hand ghosted across the sheets tracing crinkles made just hours before. In the right state of mind he would probably regret his actions. _No,_ he thought, _no I could never regret them._ Even though his muscles ached and the skin across his chest strained tight with each breath, he felt the best he had in a long time.

That was not to last. Quick footsteps disturbed his peace. He tried to heave himself up as the door flung open and the cold night air gushed in. A frantic Lynn stood in the doorway, her grey eyes held a frenzied look as her skirts and shawls whipped about her.

"Shirt, shoes, now!"

Albus blinked twice in rapid succession. In that small amount of time Lynn had stepped into the hut and was gathering his things.

"Quickly Dumbledore!" She chided, flinging his boots in his direction. "They know! They _know_!"

This snapped him into action. He may not know exactly who 'they' were but he had a fair old idea. He was in no fit state to take on an island of Grindelwald's men. Where once he would have used wandless magic absentmindedly to tie his boots, tonight he could not spare such luxuries. He growled as he caught his trembling finger in the loop tying his left boot and mentally swore to never again buy shoes with laces.

They were out the door and into the shadows of night quicker than a golden snitch. Eight feet from the hut Albus felt a ripple in the air, wards of some sort though he had no time to ponder. Sprinting between bushes and brambles, their direction was unknown to Albus as he followed Lynn blindly. In hindsight that could have been a foolish mistake but from the smell of salty sea air she was leading him in the direction of the ocean. It was not long before they emerged from under the trees to see the broad, shining, expanse of the sea before them.

Albus turned to Lynn with a question burning in his eyes and for the first time he noticed she was carrying a broomstick. If she'd had this with her all the time or simply acquired it somewhere within in the woods he did not know, but he quickly caught on to his escape plan.

"The wards are failing but if you fly south a half mile you'll encounter a small cluster of rocks. From there you should be able to disapparate safely."

"And yourself? Athena?"

"Don't you go worrying about us. Go!" She shooed him with her arms. "Now!"

"But Athena – "

"– Is merely a girl. Leave her be. Whatever passed between the two of you was never meant to last."

The wind blew fiercely by the shore and the waves crashed against their feet. Albus was torn between fleeing and fighting, though deep down he knew there was only one logical option.

"Athena, she must – "

Lynn was losing her patience as she cut him off for the second time. Her tone was quite harsh and persistent. "–Mi – Did she mention she's engaged to be married?"

In his shock Albus missed Lynn's slight slip of the tongue. Lynn continued before he could gather his thoughts together.

"I didn't think so." Her face clearly showed her disapproval. "Look Dumbledore, she's a bonny wee lass, that we cannot deny, but I have high hopes for her. She's as clever as clever can be and you and I both know she'll go far."

Albus nodded trying to get a word in edgeways. "But –"

"–But nothing!" Lynn gestured with her hands to emphasise her point. "I will not have you jeopardising her bright future! Take this broom and go, go as far away from here as possible!" She shoved the mode of transportation into his chest. "_Go_!"

The blustery breeze blew the branches of the trees, caught Lynn's worn green shawl and whisked it away to the waves but Lynn barely blinked she was fixing Albus with such a piercing stare.

"She needs to riddle the what and the why." Albus said more to himself than Lynn, his attention on thoughts of previous ministrations. He shook his head to clear his mind and focused upon the witch in front of him. "I'll go Lynn but I tell you now, I will be back! And others will be here to round up Grindelwald's followers. He may have been captured but the war is not yet over."

Lynn's eyes widened and he realised that his defeat over the Dark Wizard had not yet reached the island. Albus clasped Lynn's hand in a gesture of gratitude.

"Thank you, Lynn. I owe the both of you my life. If ever – "

She waved her free hand, "Just go," but Albus noticed her tone was softer.

"Tell Athena…tell her…"

Lynn rubbed his shoulder quite firmly, giving him a nudge in the right direction.

"Just go Dumbledore," she shook her head, "Just go."

He turned and mounted the broom then looking back over his shoulder he could not help but ask, "Is he worthy?" He closed his eyes and though he lowered his voice his words still carried, "Does he deserve her?"

"Do you?"

When Albus next opened his eyes delicate, intricate shells thrown up by the tide, fragments of bleached wood and complex nets of weed were all that could be seen upon the sandy beach. Lynn was gone.

He kicked off into the air and adjusted his course southbound. His hair made the only note of vibrant colour in a landscape of grey, blue and black - a flame on the water in the night sky.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**As always I must take the time to thank Aleta II Anon.**

Beneath the Deep Depths of Green and Blue

Chapter 8

It was the dead of the night when not a soul should be awake but many a footstep could be heard from the courtyard below. The embers in the fire were barely glowing; the only light came from a lone candle lazily dripping wax upon the surface of Minerva's bedside table. Not even the pale moonlight seeped into the dark exterior.

The harsh cry of an owl threatened to wake Minerva from her sleep. As she rolled over the finely embroidered quilt slid off of Minerva's lithe form. Her pale skin came up in goosebumps as the cold night air made contact. If Minerva had had her way she wouldn't even be there but Braelyn had insisted. After the storm had died down Braelyn had stomped down to the shed and frogmarched Minerva straight to bed. It was plain to see the young witch was exhausted.

Again the owl cried and hushed whispers broke out from the courtyard. The fatigued young witch stirred but did not wake, she only groaned and turned onto her stomach, as more strands of her long, black hair broke free from the loose plait.

Suddenly the gathering from below erupted into a loud roar and red sparks flew from their wands. The noise immediately pierced Minerva's slumber and she bolted straight up out of bed. Her green eyes grew wide with fear as she heard the commotion from outside.

"We will hunt him down!"

_Him?_

A horrible feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

_Do they know? Has our secret been found out?_ _Albus!_

A quick glance around her set of rooms told Minerva that Braelyn was not present so she quickly snatched her wand and climbed out of bed. Not bothering to dress she took three deep breaths and desperately tried to steady her nerves. Her animagus transformation all depended on her emotional state. The thought of Albus's beautiful, blue eyes lifeless, devoid of their twinkle helped her harness her powers and before long a small, grey, tabby cat bound across the stone floor, through the open crack of the large, oak door, along the empty corridor and down the spiral staircase. In her haste and still unused to balancing on four paws, Minerva tumbled down the last few steps but that did not stop her. She scampered unnoticed through the crowd of dark clad wizards and witches as she weaved her way between many fashionable, dragon-leather boots. Soon she was darting down the path that led to the abandoned shack Albus was recuperating in. Heedless of the rustling leaves her eyesight was heightened in her feline form. The moon reflected in the many muddy puddles but Minerva hurried on. Her keen hearing picked up on mice and other delicious rodents scurrying in the shadows but she fought the urge to hunt.

_Has the hunter now become the hunted?_

She finally reached her destination, felt the familiar tingle of her protective spells but the wide, open door made her hackles rise. She crouched down low and cautiously crept her way forward. Her ears twitched for any sound but she heard nothing, She wasn't sure whether to feel that was a good sign or not. Gathering her courage she threw caution to the wind and recklessly stormed into the darkened shack.

Nothing. Empty. No Albus Dumbledore in sight. The fire was dead but as she pounced onto his makeshift bed she felt a lingering warmth. He had not been gone long. The only place she could think where he could possibly be was the beach.

With her heart in her throat, she hurried on padded paws through the woods and down to the shore. Fallen branches snapped underfoot and the crunching leaves echoed loudly. She cut her bare paws on the sharp stones and pinecones but still she continued determined to find Albus. Uncharacteristically, Minerva was more concerned for Albus' sudden disappearance than Braelyn's mysterious absence. It was not hard to see her way though it was the salty smell of the ocean that led her in the right direction. She dared to heave a feline sigh of relief when her paws touched sand.

After a failed attempt to revert back to her human form she managed to transform. Distraught, her eyes desperately scanned the coastline in search of him but he was nowhere to be seen. There were too many footprints to make out a specific set.

An explosion was heard not far off causing her to start. Anxiously she looked back over her shoulder but the sounds only spurred her efforts. It was imperative that she find Albus before Grindelwald's wizards. He was weak and wandless, never a good combination. The cold, night air had completely wakened her and the dreaded revelation that they had been found out finally sank in. She could only hope they not be caught.

Her sharp eyes caught sight of something floating in the waves. Quickly she plunged into the water with a slight gasp. Her white, cotton nightgown seemed to glow in the moonlight. She continued further into the sea and shuddered as the cold water came above her knees.

_Just a little further_

As the water reached above her waist she realised that it was Braelyn's shawl swept up by the waves. Too far out of reach, Minerva stayed put with an incredulous expression etched across her porcelain face. The Knut had finally dropped.

_Braelyn? Is she safe? Is Albus safe? Are they somewhere safe together?_

Her hair had completely come loose in the wind and was blowing in long locks around her. Her wet nightgown clung tightly to her slim form. Her skin was as white as snow but her green eyes shone like emeralds. As the waves crashed around her she looked like a figure of legend and folklore – Melusine, the great water spirit. With one last longing glance she turned her back to the night and waded ashore, never once looking back.

Moving up the beach with a ponderous grace. She shook her body from side to side and a shower of silver droplets made a dazzling halo around her. The snapping of a branch immediately brought her back to the present. She was not sure whether she was safer in her human form or her feline.

_Why would anyone suspect a cat of harbouring a fugitive? In all honesty why would anyone kill a cat? But you are Grindelwald's betrothed…_

She found it harder to transform but she succeeded in the nick of time. She arched her back and gave a faint meow as a small group of five wizards emerged from behind a cluster of thorn bushes. She recognized three of the men. The leader, Red, was short and had a pointy nose. His hair was the colour of a fox and his cunning ways often reminded her of the animal. The man to his left, Meldric, was his cousin. He too had red hair but he was of a completely different build, tall and lanky. In Minerva's opinion a flobberworm possessed more intelligence. The last wizard she recognized was a dark, handsome wizard of medium build. Though she did not know his name she knew his face. The man had sharp eyes that radiated astuteness. Her father and he had met many times and from what she gathered her father respected his wisdom and advice despite his young age, for he had scarcely turned thirty.

"He's here somewhere, I can smell him!"

"Did he really defeat him, Red? Did he? Did he?"

"That's what they're saying, Meldric, that's what they're saying."

"Quiet! The both of you!" A short-tempered, unfamiliar, blond-haired wizard demanded. Minerva's observations led her to believe he was the eldest out of the five wizards.

"I am the leader, Sedgewick! I will – "

Minerva hid in the shadow of an old oak and listened intently. She found it hard to piece together the titbits of information her small ears picked up on but her worries were confirmed. They knew Albus was hiding upon the island. They bickered for sometime until the dark man Minerva recognized but could not name hushed them and they immediately fell silent.

"He will have headed for the shore, his only escape route."

The others gripped their wands tighter and jeered. Red obviously felt he needed to add his two Knuts, if nothing but to prove his leadership.

"As for his accomplice, we will find her and kill her too!"

Minerva arched her back like a bow and her fur stood on end in fear. She flexed her claws and had to fight the urge to hiss. As the men slowly crept out of sight Minerva made a desperate and mad dash for the only place she could think to find Braelyn – back in their rooms. The one place where Minerva should be at that very moment, tucked away safely in bed, for Braelyn would never willingly leave her. Minerva could only assume that Braelyn had somehow found out and for Minerva's sake had tried to help Albus escape. Ducking under bushes and scampering around trees, her back paw throbbed and her lungs ached from the sudden exertion but she forced herself on.

They knew of Albus Dumbledore and that he had received help from a woman. The thought sent shivers down her spine. Did they know who it was? She needed to get to Braelyn, somewhere in her mind she felt it was of the utmost importance.

Her padded paws were muddy and her fur mat with dirt, her mouth felt dry and her heart beat so loud she feared the whole island could hear it. As she came closer to Grindelwald's fortification she immediately knew something was wrong. She could smell fear so she dived under a rock and listened closely. There were few women on the island so naturally it would not be hard to find the culprit.

When she had scurried through the courtyard earlier the atmosphere had been that of nervousness, disbelief, hatefulness and perhaps a twinge of terror. Now, however, the hushed whispers had turned into victorious cries and nasty insults. Every single wizard and witch anxiously fingered his or her wand and together had formed a circle. Something in the middle had captured their attention. Minerva felt the sudden urge to vomit, a feeling of trepidation washed through her from the tip of her tail to the point of her nose. She desperately wanted to creep her way through the excited crowd to see what had them so enthralled but her four paws were stuck to the spot.

Suddenly the derisive crowd hushed and parted. The group of wizards she had seen in the woods held their heads high and strutted to the centre of the circle. Minerva took note of Red's sneer and Meldric's imbecilic grin. The dark, handsome wizard's brown eyes held harshness in them that gave Minerva the feeling of being hit with a jelly-legs curse.

"This traitor must die!" Sedgewick's voice sounded a hundred times louder than it should have been as his voice carried on the wind and echoed in the surrounding woods.

In answer the crowd cheered and raised their fists in the air and because they had shifted Minerva now had a clear view. Abruptly her eyes fell on a familiar figure hunched in a crying heap on the ground.

_BRAELYN!_

It was Braelyn who had captured their attention so. It was Braelyn who they referred to as 'traitor'. Minerva's world seemed to collapse around her. Her vision swam and she barely registered the next words spoken.

"Your tears only serve to shame you, wench!"

Red stepped forward and threw something on the ground. It flashed in the moonlight and clattered on the stone. Minerva instantly recognised it.

_With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair_

It was the comb with a pearl handle that Albus had given Minerva less than twenty-four hours ago. Her hair had dried in tangles and knots so Albus had unexpectedly transfigured a small pebble into the exquisite comb. He had sat silently and watched as she had combed her hair until it shone in the firelight.

"Proof!"

Guilt and fear consumed Minerva as she finally found her footing and managed to command her paws. She crept out from under her hiding place and silently made her way closer. Her grey fur glistened silver in the moonlight and caught Braelyn's attention. Her eyes, glossy with tears, snapped up and locked with Minerva's green. She vigorously shook her head but Minerva continued to come closer.

"Any last words, scum?"

Braelyn swallowed and her voice rang out thick with emotion. She did not blink away her tears but held her gaze with Minerva. Her arms were magically bound behind her back and her hair clung to her face damp with tears.

"Stay! Take not one step closer!"

The crowd laughed thinking she warned them but Minerva knew differently. She stopped some few feet away from the jeering mob.

"Remember, she loved your more than anything," a small sob escaped her throat, "as do I!"

Minerva let out a strangled, yowling meow but nobody heard through the mocking. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on summoning her power but she could not block out their taunting. She tried to transform with every meagre ounce of her feline body but she was trapped. All sound became distorted and mixed strangely with the sound of her blood pumping through her veins, she felt like she was drowning. In her panicked state she was once again frozen to the spot completely unaware of her surroundings. Nothing could pierce her stupor, nothing but two evil words that would come to haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The haze ascended, moments sped up. Minerva opened her eyes in time to see Braelyn's lifeless form fall to the ground. Her dead eyes still upon Minerva but held no emotion whatsoever, neither anger nor joy. Their love and light brutally extinguished.

Cold reality flooded her consciousness as she ran, ran as far as her four legs would carry her. She tripped and tumbled, her back paw gave way and she began to limp but still she fled. Leaves caught in her dirt-caked fur, her paws splashed in muddy puddles but she dared not turn back. Finally she succumbed to exhaustion in the hollow of an old oak tree as the sun began to rise. Colours mixed before her lidded eyes and as the yellows and oranges blended together one bold colour stood out the strongest – red.

_The sun is tainted with innocent blood!_

Each tiny gradation of light and every shifting shade foreshadowed a violent emotion of colour.

_Stained!_


End file.
